


Strangers on a park bench

by Tolazytocomeupwithaname



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tolazytocomeupwithaname/pseuds/Tolazytocomeupwithaname
Summary: When things get too much sometimes a chat with a stranger can help.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor & Donna Noble
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36
Collections: Missed Connections Exchange





	Strangers on a park bench

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stratisphyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stratisphyre/gifts).



“What have I told you kids about leaving this stuff around where I can step on it?” Donna grumbles more to herself than anyone else as Ducktales blares on the television in the background. “I swear if I step on one more piece of LEGO I’ll.” Donna stops in the middle of the room LEGO forgotten as she stares transfixed at the screen. Something about the cartoon duck's voice goes right through her head. She switches off the television set and closes her eyes doing her best to quell her mounting headache. She needs to get out of the house. She needs to run.

She calls out to Shawn that she’ll be back in a couple of hours already shoving on her shoes and heading out the door only to be waylaid by Joshua holding up a brightly coloured picture book. 

“Mummy would love to read the grumpy dinosaur for the twelve hundredth time but daddys going to have to do it because if mummy doesn’t get some peace and quiet for five minutes she’ll turn into a grumpy dinosaur herself. I’ll be back in time for bedtime,” she promises already heading out the door. “I just need some quite.” 

Her head's pounding and there's a small persistent voice telling her to run. So she does. Eventually she's pushed her body as far as she can and needs a break. She collapses onto a nearby bench sweaty and exhausted. It doesn’t happen often but sometimes she just gets like this. A sort of restlessness that comes from deep in her bones that leaves her with headaches for days afterwards. She knows some of the triggers not that she can make much sense of them such as blue boxes or red converse shoes. 

The two things that calm her when she gets like this are running and stargazing but when she tilts her head upwards the sky remains stubbornly cloudy and starless. She really does love the stars. They always remind her of long nights with her gramps searching the sky although she was never quite sure what she was looking for. She misses her gramps the most on days like this. He was always so understanding about it. She loves Wales but she hates being so far away from him. Sometimes you just need a chat with your grandad to make everything feel okay. 

She jumps as she’s startled out of her thoughts by a strange melancholy tune. She turns around to see an old man with an electric guitar sitting beside her. “Oh sorry didn’t see you there.”

He’s looking at her strangely. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. And she starts talking to try and cover the awkwardness. 

“My mate Johnny had one of those. He fancies himself to be a right rockstar. He says he’s in a band but I don’t think they’ve ever played outside his front room. Drives his fiance Sarah nuts. She reckons it’s some kind of a midlife crisis thing like if he behaves like a teenager he’ll suddenly be one again. Of course his has to be plugged in. What is yours, some kind of new rechargeable model.

“Yes that must be it. Rechargeable. Anything else would just be silly”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before.”

“Oh yeah. Never been one for staying in one place for too long. Don’t know how people stand it if I’m being honest.”

On days like this Donna can’t help but agree with that statement. Then again she takes in his faded hoodie, skinny frame and unbrushed hair. There's a lot to be said for having a home base with people who cared about you. “Do you want me to buy you a coffee or something? People do that right? Buy people coffee. Or maybe a sandwich? You look like you could do with a sandwich. Skinny as a twig you are. Like you’ll snap in half if I so much as look at you.”

For some reason this makes him smile. “Oh there’ll be no snapping in half for me. I’m tough as azbantium. In fact,” he looks around before leaning in close and whispering conspiratorially, “I’m tougher. I’m the one who won in a fist fight.” 

“Az what? You’re just making stuff up now,” she laughs.

“Of course I’m making things up. I’m always making things up.” He goes quiet; suddenly looking very sad. “It wasn’t a little fistfight, it was a long one. A long long fistfight. One I hope was worth it. I did it for, well I did it for this friend of mine. Only the problem is I can’t quite remember her.” 

“Oh yeah Shawns dads started to get a bit like that towards the end. He was always wandering off on him.”

“Towards the end? Towards the end of what? Hang on do you think I’m old?”

She deliberately looks him up and down taking in his deep wrinkles and snow white hair before answering, “No I think you’re still a teenager.” 

He nods completely missing the irony in her voice. Of course if this is like Shawn's dad it's probably kinder not to argue with him. 

“So tell me about this friend. What do you mean when you say you can’t remember her.” 

“It’s like an emptiness.”

“An emptiness?”

“Yes like I look back at these memories of the things I’ve done, the things I’ve seen and it’s like they don’t make sense. Or maybe that’s not right. It’s more like when you go back and read your favorite book from when you were a kid. And you remember it being this wonderful magical thing. But when you go back it's missing this big important element. Like you try and read it yourself but without whoever used to read it to you it’s just words on a page. But you can’t even remember who it was that used to read to you. So you go back to all the places you remember going to and ask people if they remember this woman you were with and you manage to build a picture of what she must have been like but it's not the same as actually remembering her yourself. Or something like that. The metaphor might have gotten away from me a bit.”

Donna’s not sure how to respond to that. As rambly an explanation as it was something about it hit closer to home than she feels comfortable with. She hasn’t forgotten anyone. Obviously. But she can't help but think on days like today. When her head is pounding and she just wants to run and run she can’t help but feel an absence like there should be someone by her side. 

“I’m so sorry. That sounds really hard.” 

“The worst part is that I’m pretty sure she’s the one that did it to me.” 

“She what? What do you mean she’s the one who did it to you. Do we need to call the police?”

“I’m sure she had the best intentions. My friends usually do.”

“Uh uh. I’m not buying that mister we’re talking about something serious here. There’s no excuse for hurting someone you care about like that.”

For some reason that statement makes him look distinctly uncomfortable which only goes to reinforce the fact that this is someone who needs her help. “Sometimes you need to hurt the people you care about to keep them safe.”

“Bullshit. You don’t hurt the people you care about. If you care about them you find a way to keep them safe.”

He sighs, “If only it were always that simple but sometimes. Unless. No I couldn’t. But if I did. But then. Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.” 

“Oi scotsman. You planning on talking sense anytime soon.”

“Right Donna” 

“Hang on how do you know my name?”

“That’s not important right now. I need you to listen carefully. You’ve been feeling like there’s someone important missing from your life to right?”

“How do you know that? Oh my God have you been drugging me or something?”

“What? No. but I think I can fix your problem. You just need to come with me,” he says stretching out a hand for her to take. 

Every ounce of Donna's common sense tells her that’s a bad idea but something in her gut tells her she should trust this man. Besides by the looks of him she should be able to overpower him easily enough if worst comes to worst. She takes his hand.  
She almost changes her mind when he leads her to a big blue wooden box. She takes a deep breath before stepping inside. She barely gets a chance to take in a large cavernous room much larger than it has any right to be before the pounding in her head becomes too much to bear. 

“Donna ….. me,” her hearing was phasing in and out in time with the pounding in her head. She squeezes her eyes shut against blaring lights overhead. Something cold brushes against her temple but when she tries to twist her head away a cool hand holds it gently in place. 

Her hearing completely cuts out and for a second she’s aware of nothing. And then. Everything. 

She opens her eyes blearily taking in the console room before her gaze lands on the man who can only be the Doctor. 

“You’ve redecorated.”

“I know.”

“You’ve got a new face.”

“I know.” 

“I am going to kill you.”

“I know.” 

“Where are we going first?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Wait I promised my kids I’d be home in time for bedtime.” 

“And you will be. Don’t worry I’m a very efficient traveller. I’ll even let you pull the lever.” 

“Go on then,” she laughs.


End file.
